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| Tweet Topic Started: Nov 2 2016, 11:43 PM (36 Views) | |
| Nathan | Nov 2 2016, 11:43 PM Post #1 |
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Abel Essex, clad in a pair of faded blue jeans and a black Chevelle t-shirt, inhales and holds the air inside his lungs. He looks down at the flowers in his right hand and the box of chocolates in his left. A moment of doubt slams into his brain as he slowly exhales and closes his eyes forcefully. Abel Essex: Come on, Abel, pull yourself together. He finishes his motivational statement prior to opening his eyes and staring towards the house in front of him. He takes a couple of steps forward; but the sight of the door opening causes him to stop in his tracks. He watches as a man stops in the doorway. The man turns slightly and plants a kiss on the lips of a woman standing a few inches behind him. Abel Essex: Son of a bitch... He trails off as the man steps onto the porch and leaves the woman in the doorway. Clad in nothing but a long t-shirt, Anna Frost looks past the man and catches sight of Abel for the first time. If physically possible, her jaw would have touched the ground as she lost control of her mouth. The man walks past Abel, showing him a sly smile as he does so. Abel doesn't turn his head to follow the man; instead he keeps his eyes forward and plastered on Anna. She peeks her head out of the door, mostly to see if anyone's out and about. Sensing no obvious eyes, she steps onto the porch as Abel continues to stare, unsure of his next move. Anna Frost: What are you doing here, Abel? Her words, so cold; they penetrate Abel's eardrums with the same numbing force as someone throwing a snowball at his face. He manages to regain the control of his legs and steps forward, stopping a couple of feet away from the porch. Abel Essex: I -- well, I -- Anna Frost: Look, I know you mean well, Abel, but I was serious when I said I was done, okay? Abel Essex: I don't understand; we -- you're going to throw away ten years? Just -- throw it away like it's a piece of trash? Anna Frost: I'm not throwing away anything, Abel. I've explained to you many, many times -- you're a professional wrestler; not a partner or father. Abel Essex: I -- He pauses as he glances down at the items in his hands. And suddenly, more than anything, he feels like an idiot. He wants to be angry; he wants to be irate -- after all, the woman he loves; the woman he planned to marry, is clearly fucking another guy. But he can't -- he can't feel those things because he's overwhelmed by how embarrassed he is right now. Abel Essex: We -- Anna, baby, I -- I just want you to listen to me, okay? Can we go inside and talk for a couple of minutes? Anna Frost: No, absolutely not, Abel. There's nothing for us to talk about, okay? And even if I did want to talk to you, I'm busy the rest of the day -- I have to get Hayley up soon and we have some errands to run. Abel Essex: You -- wait -- Hayley, my daughter -- our daughter -- is sleeping inside? Anna Frost: Just go home, Abel, okay? Abel Essex: Anna, I -- He trails off; God, he wants to blow up -- he wants to yell and cause a scene like he's never done before. But love is a mother fucker; and at the end of the day, all he wants is Anna -- that's all he wants. Everything else, all other emotions and negatives, they all have to take a backseat. He looks down at the items in his hand once again prior to bending forward and placing them on the porch, a couple of inches in front of her feet. Abel Essex: I love you, Anna. And, I don't know -- I've made my mistakes, I completely understand I've made mistakes. But you and me, we're -- I just -- this doesn't make sense; we're supposed to be together -- Hayley, she needs her mother and father together. Anna Frost: I'm done with this conversation, okay? I'll see you tomorrow when I drop Hayley off at the apartment. And with that, in one swift movement, she turns on her heel and enters the home. She slams the door closed behind her, leaving Abel and his gifts outside. Once she's in the house, she leans against the door and stares off into space. And without warning, she starts sobbing as she slides down the door and lands in a seated position. Outside, Abel hesitates as he stares at the door; he inhales sharply before turning around and heading back to his car. ---------- For years, I fought -- I clawed -- for the opportunity to make it out of Illinois and into a major wrestling promotion. It took so much, it took so long; and there were times when it appeared the opportunity would never present itself. But I kept moving forward; I kept my head down and my brain focused. I did whatever I had to do to make it -- and here I am, in Redemption. And now, when I should be hungry and determined to showcase my abilities to the entire industry, I'm finding my path is blocked; a massive cloud has engulfed me and I'm unable to maintain my forward direction. I find myself stumbling and taking wrong turns. I find myself.... confused. And for the first time in my entire wrestling life, I'm unsure of my own talent and desire to succeed. It's a fucked up situation to be in, isn't it? To chase something; to be so hungry for something for so long, only to find yourself unsatisfied once it's obtained. This was my mindset -- this was my demeanor, all the way up until the moment Angel kicked me in my teeth. In a way, I should thank him for the kind gesture because it opened my eyes. I realized that, while I've done okay for myself thus far, my performance in Redemption has been mediocre. And it's lead to people like Angel believing it's okay to kick Abel Essex in the face. Fuck that. It's not okay. And now I'm more focused than I've ever been. Angel, buddy, you're going to get yours. Thank you, but fuck you. But now I'm hungry again; I've realized getting here was only the first step. Now, I have to be hungrier than I have ever been to achieve the greatness I know I am destined to one day obtain. And it starts this week, in a match against Eva Broussard and Ironclad. Eva, I'd like to thank you for failing to mention my daughter's name this week. It's upsetting enough you feel the need to pull my family into this situation. But her name -- from your filthy lips -- would have been the undoing of you. It would have been the end of Eva Broussard in Redemption; and, more specifically, in wrestling. Because, listen to me closely, believe me when I say this -- I would have broken your fucking back. But hey, you showed some restraint -- something I don't think many men knew you had in you. So, consider yourself lucky, Abel's just looking for the victory this week -- your career is safe. But it's funny because you're trying to make this personal. You're attempting to look in from the outside and analyze my situation. Eva, you don't fucking know anything. You talk like you're someone that should be taken seriously around here. You walk around like you're on top of the world. You act as if you're the greatest thing this company has going for it today. When, in all reality, you're nothing but a prop thrown at some of the boys in the back when the doctors are fresh out of pain medication. You know what they say, sometimes blowing a nut in a chick's face can do wonders for a man's back pain. There's something about you that simply rubs me the wrong way. I consider myself a gentlemen, I consider myself a stand up guy. But when you fail to respect me, such as you have been doing all along, you get my rage. And when you get Abel's rage, you get a glimpse into what awaits you in the afterlife. Hell. With all of it's fire and glory. You're arrogant. Why? Do you really see a reason for your attitude? Your tiny accomplishments make you better than everybody else? Your position in this company is fragile. You think your shit doesn't stink, but it's been packed in so deep, for so long, that it's bound to be the nastiest shit ever taken once you can get it out. I don't like you. Is it obvious? I don't respect you. I think you're grasping at straws. I beat you before, but apparently it's only because you underestimated me. What's going to be your excuse after this week, Eva? Huh? The fact of the matter is Abel Essex is determined to reach the top of the proverbial mountain. He is determined to achieve greatness that his father failed miserably to reach, over and over again. I am focused. I am hungry. And I am going to dismantle you this week much in the same fashion as I did a few weeks ago. So, please, for now, do us all a favor and shut the hell up. Ironclad, what an interesting individual. I love your desire, but you have it for all of the wrong reasons. If you want to fight, go to a dive bar and get shitfaced. If you want to win and reach the pinnacle, you join a wrestling promotion. Violence, while cute, is not the key to success. You need to be technical, you need to be knowledgeable. And above all else, you need patience. And from what I've seen from you, with your desire to cause as much destruction as humanly possible, you don't have the tools -- and more importantly, you haven't figured out the reason a person becomes a professional wrestler. Being misguided can still achieve a decent payday. But come on, did you really join Redemption for the money? Personally, I think you need to take a step back and analyze the situation. You paint yourself as this big, monstrous brute force. You intend to dislodge your opponent's heads, each and every time you hit the ring. You couldn't careless about the victory, at least that's how it looks. So, what's the point? We go back to violence. Which, said in another word, is mediocrity. I've made it no secret that I am on a path towards the light. I lead with my head and my heart; not my muscles and my fists. And it's because of that, such a simple, simple thing, that will aid me in being victorious in our match this week. See, you want to hurt me, while all I want to do is pin your shoulders for three seconds. Which is easier? Better question, which is smarter? Years from now, I'm going to be labeled as one of the best wrestlers in the history of this business. I guarantee it. You? You'll be lucky to still be in the industry. You'll be lucky to still be remembered as a member of the second coming of Redemption. That is, unless, you take some of my advice and realize that what you're doing -- it's forgettable. Do you really want to be forgettable? Think about it, Ironclad. Show me something new this week; come out with a gameplan that doesn't start and end in annihilation. And maybe you'll surprise me. But at the end of the day; you and Eva, both of you will realize just how serious Abel Essex truly is. See you in the ring. |
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7:16 PM Jul 11
